Twelve Men Down
by HannahCake310
Summary: There is a time for many words and there is a time for silence... Or in which Jim is a man who has seen war and has come back home broken and Leonard is the man who helps him put the pieces back together.
1. Chapter 1: Anger

**Twelve Men Down**

The bar was a grimy place with sticky tables and squeaky chairs that groaned when new weight pressed down but held steady and strong, given their age. The bar keep working currently was a surprisingly younger man who filled customers drinks with quick fingers and no words uttered unless strictly necessary. All around the bar were men with beers in hand and woman in short dresses or shorts tight around their hips. It wasn't too loud in the place but loud enough to drown out any one persons' conversation, which was good according to the blonde haired man sitting near the back at the bar.

His shoulders were slumped at an angle that hurt his back with his elbows sticking to the old wood of the bar. Around the man's neck, barely visible to those just passing by hung a par of tags that clinked against one another every so often. To anyone else the sound of the clinking tags would be annoying, bothersome, but to the man it was comforting. The sound felt normal and whole, like an old friend. In front of him sat a beer half gone with no label stretched around its circumference. The label lay in tatters to the right of the man as he absently played with the thin pieces he'd torn off while too deep in thought to comprehend his hands absentminded movement.

A deep ache beat in tune with his heart from his leg sending painful messages to his brain telling him it was time for another round of meds. It throbbed but the man ignored it, just like he always did when the familiar pain would flare up. It wasn't too bad right now, the alcohol already running through his system numbing it down just like the aches in his back.

The man arched his spine as much as the brace that was hidden under his shirt and jacket would allow. He breathed deep until he heard his back crack slightly then settled back down into the uncomfortable position. It was nice to somewhat slouch on the barstool, a pleasure he hadn't been given in years. He'd been trained to have his back pin straight and posture even with legs apart and slightly bent to ensure blood flow. Eyes forward, shoulders back, hands clasped securely and face neutral. The perfect position for the perfect soldier.

"You want another one, Cap?" questioned another barmen from across the sodden bar. This man was older, greying hair and skinny but still having the outline of muscle hollowed under his shirt sleeves. A leathery and faded tattoo peaked out from behind his left shirt sleeve coming from the middle of his shoulder. Only the bottom remnants of an anchor with an eagles tail feathers leaked from his shoulder. Though it was fading the old man still wore it with the same amount of pride he did when he was a stupid teenager thinking he could live forever.

James Kirk looked up from his beer and tattered label with a sad smile. His blue eyes were dulled by the dark lighting and exhausted lines surrounding them but still they sparkled somewhat looking at the old man. He ran his fingers through his longer than he was used to hair then brought his hand to the back of his neck looking back down at the sticky bar.

"Come on Jenks, it's just Jim now. No more Captain bullshit." He said softly only meant for the man to hear him and no one else.

"I don't care what ya say you'll always be a Captain to me. You earned the title, son. Be proud of it." Then the old man with leathery skin and worn Marines anchor and eagle tattooed on his shoulder bent down to retrieve two shot glasses. The set them both down with a clink then reached up on the top shelf for the good liquor. Across the bar the other barman said nothing but rolled his eyes as a larger woman who had been trying to get a free drink for a while now leaned across the bar to flash or overly exposed breasts. Jenks poured a worthy amount of clear liquid into both shot glasses even after Jim's protests.

"You know I don't have the cash for the top shelf man."

"From one soldier to another," Jenks set the shot in front of Jim with a clink. Jim opened his mouth for further protest but stopped when the old man looked down at him with cloudy grey eyes. Jim straightened from his slouched position then grabbed his glass and held it up.

Jenks, a man far too old to be doing shots with a twenty-three year old veteran looked Jim in the eye. "To those we left behind."

Jim froze for a moment with memories too clear and too soon engulfing his mind. He gulped audibly before nodding and throwing back the expensive liquor.

"How's the leg?" Jenks asked putting away the glasses and taking Jim's half gone warm bottle to replace with a new one so cold frost gathered on the sides. Again Jim opened his mouth to prost but stopped afer Jenks leveled him a glare his mother would have been proud of. Instead Jim closed his mouth and stared at the bottle itching to peel off the label.

"It comes and it goes." He shrugged not wanted to speak of the ghost pains that crawl up his leg and wrap around his back at the most odd times or the very real pains that engulf the sides of his body and leave him shaking and withering on the ground.

"It'll get better lad, don't worry."

Jim smiled shyly up at the man whom he had met not that long ago, after he'd come back to the states. He'd been angry and hurt with a heart blackened by combat and a soul buried so deep under mistrust and fear that he couldn't even stand being home. He couldn't take his mother's sad blue eyes that stared at him with so much pity it boiled his blood, searing his insides.

The glass had slid off the counter by accident, a slight brush of the back of his mother's hand and it was over the edge falling and shattering on the ground splaying into sharp, jagged pieces. Jim jerked in his seat convinced it wasn't a glass that but a bomb. The glass had shattered like windows contorting and breaking with the force of the blasts that ripped limbs from bodies and tore faces to shreds. Suddenly Jim couldn't see, couldn't breathe, he couldn't feel anything but pain. It boiled in his chest, stung like a thousand wasps. Metal bands wrapped around his chest and torso, he coughed to try to dispel them but they didn't move. Jim tried to curl in on himself to protect his body but his leg, his leg hurt so badly and his back wouldn't move not matter how hard he tried to force it to. Some animal was sinking its teeth just below his knee and racking them down his leg. There were gunshots peppering the ground in places that Jim couldn't see. Shouting assaulted his ears making him grip at them harshly digging his nails into the sides of his head. Distantly he knew that something wrong, that this wasn't real but he didn't have control over his thoughts. His body reacted while his mind was in turmoil lashing out at that which moved while trying to huddle closer to himself for protection. Hands tried to touch him were just as quickly gone as Jim whimpered brokenly.  
>It felt like hours but it must have only been minutes later when he finally came back into himself. Tears tracks stained his cheeks, he could feel them cooling as his eyes unclouded. He jerked his head around surprised to find himself on the floor. His mother also sat of the floor holding onto side of her face gingerly. Where she touched blossomed red under her pale fingers. She stared at him in a mixture of pity and fright.<br>"Mom?" He whispered realizing what he had just done, that he had just hit his mother.  
>"Jimmy... You didn't mean to..." She choked on a sob and it was all Jim could do to hold himself back, to not rush to her. He had caused this. He had hurt her. He was a monster. Gritting his teeth and ignoring the tears that ran from his eyes Jim hauled himself up and bit back a groan as his back pulled under the brace. With all the might he had Jim limped to the front door ignoring the jacket that hung on the banister. He angrily grabbed for his keys and slammed the door open then closed with a yell from his mother begging him to wait. He limped to his bike, fire burning his insides and threw his useless leg over the seat. By the time his mother could get outside he was already speeding down their dirt driveway kicking up dust and rocks.<br>"Jim!"  
>Jim screamed when he hit a bump jarring his back. He shouldn't be on a bike yet, the doctors had said to wait at least another month or two but he felt trapped. He felt like an animal. A monster locked in a cage built too small for his frame. Jim gunned the throttle harder when he reached the main road. He had nowhere to go and all night to get there.<br>The wind blew into his ears loudly but it wasn't loud enough, he could still hear his friends voices, their screams of pain, their laughs and jokes. He could still see the soldiers he'd fought with as if they were right next to him, as if he was back there in that dessert hellhole. It hurt to think of his men and how much he'd failed them. Tears flew down his face then were whipped off with the wind. He hadn't grabbed a helmet when he'd stormed out of his mother's house. Just another stupid thing to add to the list.  
>It was hours later that Jim finally couldn't take it any longer. His back, which he had been trying his best to ignore flared with a pain that got worse with every mile he went. His arms were numb along with his face and fingers. Only his right leg still bore feeling and Jim wished it didn't. He wished so hard that he could go back to that moment when the IED had blown. Every minute of every day since he'd woken up in the hospital he'd wished his leg didn't hurt with phantom pain and his back didn't burn with every movement.<br>A voice that sounded discreetly like Christopher Pike whispered in his ear that he should go home. It was time to take his medicine and apologize to his mother.  
><em>Sleep Jim, it's time to sleep.<br>_Pike had said those same words so long ago. It felt like years but there's no way it had been years since the explosion.  
><em>Pull over,<em> the voice begged. _Please._  
>Jim looked up from the road he was speeding on to see that he wasn't that far from his home. He was just on the outskirts of Riverside. Jim turned his bike for home finally feeling the chill and aches in his body and wanting nothing else than to close his eyes and sleep when he saw a bright neon sign advertising for a bar that he could remember being there since before he was even born. He's never gone in and not for lack of trying either. The man who ran the place could see a fake ID a mile out and that coupled with the silent guy who worked in there Jim never took his chances on getting caught. He used to stay to the lessor, more backwoods bars where he could flash his fake card or twinkle his pretty eyes to get people to buy him drinks.<br>But that was before. That was when he was just a child and hadn't known war. That was back when he was still a stupid little boy whose biggest worry was getting caught drunk out late at night and being dragged home by the cops to get his ass beat by Frank. Now though, Jim didn't have to worry about underage drinking or abusive step fathers. Now his mouth watered at the thought of a good malt whisky burning his throat and a couple of beers making him shit faced to the wind. Forgetting everything that he couldn't force from his mind while trying to drink himself into a stupor. Maybe he could get someone to take him home, have a good time with him and then dump him like the trash he is. But then Jim shivered as he thought of his leg. He wasn't really a whole man anymore, he couldn't please anyone the way he used to. He'd never be able to be loved or make it anymore. No one would love someone missing more than half of their leg and had more scars hidden under their clothes than actual healed skin.  
>Jim brought his bike to a stop and flipped the ignition letting it sputter until it died. He looked at the watch he'd kept that the army had given him and sighed. It was well passed two in the morning. Jim carefully, slowly and painfully dismounted the bike and limped inside swaying with each step. To any other person it would seem that he was already drunk.<p>

When he got inside Jim breathed a breath of relief. There wasn't many people in the place and he spied a prime seat near the end of the bar that was just enough out of the way that he could go unnoticed. He limped and swayed towards the bar stool not meeting any one persons gaze. When he finally made it to the stool he all but collapsed into it with a groan of pain. His back protested the seat but again he ignored it.

It only took a few minutes for an older looking skinny man working behind the bar to come over to him. Jim stared at the sticky bar too lost in thought to notice the man.

"If you don't give me your name then it seems I'm just gonna hav'ta make one up for you, son." Jim was startled out of his thoughts by the man. He looked up to glare at him blankly hoping the guy would just ask for his order and leave. Jim was tired to fight him and too hurt to argue. The old man shrugged, "You look like a Chris to me."

"What?" Jim asked feeling stupid. What was this man talking about?

"Yer name. What is it?" The old man's lips quirked up on the side.  
>"Jim." Jim finally said after the man stared at him with his full grey eyes for too long. A full smile bloomed across the man's face. He flipped the towel up to his shoulder nodding.<br>"Why hello Jim, my name is Thaddeus Jenkens but folks round here call me Jenks."  
>Jim shuttered thinking about how <em>he<em> used to be one of those people inside that categorization of 'folks round here' but he'd been gone for years. Long years, Jim had never even met this man before so it wasn't a wonder he didn't know who Jim was. Jim wrapped his arms around himself feeling the metal plating and thin bars of his brace through his thin t-shirt. He stayed silent, shivering, waiting for this man to ask him his order or to leave. Either was fine with Jim.

It took longer than Jim had expected but finally the man asked, "What'll ya have?"  
>"Beer." Jim answered shortly completely ready to feel the alcohol slosh through his empty stomach inhabiting his frayed senses with bad ideas. He was ready to forget in the ways he wasn't allowed to sober. He wanted to forget the sounds of men screaming for God or their mothers or crying for forgiveness. He wanted to stop the smell of burnt flesh that wafted off his skin at the oddest times even though he hadn't even been burned that badly. He wasn't allowed alcohol with his meds but he hadn't taken any tonight, he'd been just about to right before he'd hit his mother. "And add on a couple of shots. Whisky. Straight up."<br>Jenks nodded then turned his back on Jim before walking through a door behind the bar. Jim leaned heavily on the old wood shivering violently and frowning. His body yelled at him demanding to take the medicine he usually would have already taken by now but he ignored it. He ignored the way his leg and back throbbed and his joints protested with each movement. His head hurt too, just another thing to add to that list.  
>Across from Jim was the silent boy still working to pour drinks. He expertly flipped the glasses, filled them, then handed them out to the waiting patron and moved on to the next person. Jim continued to stare at his thumbs and the chips in the wood. He was content to just sit there in peace letting his mind fester with the usual thoughts when he heard a commotion from the other side of the bar.<br>"You dumbass what the fuck is'dis?" demanded a large man pointing to his drink, his words slurring together obviously he was on his way to being drunk. The boy behind the counter looked at the man then to the drink and shrugged, his curly hair bouncing as he did, then he turned to help someone else.  
>"You little shit!"<br>It happened to fast Jim wasn't sure who moved first. The man threw his glass at the bar where is shattered in a mess of liquid and liquor then he lunged at the silent boy. Almost at the same time Jim let the instincts that were ingrained in his system take over his body. He was up, across the bar and pulling the large man off of the boy before his mind realized what he was doing. He had the man by the collar of his shirt forcing him away from the boy when he stumbled slightly not being in control of his leg. It only served as an advantage however as his weight went straight into the man's stomach knocking the wind out of him. The man snarled at him but Jim only stared back with eyes he'd trained to look hard and cold. He knew his blue eyes looked like ice in this low lighting. His soldiers always said he looked like the meanest son of a bitch when he got angry.  
>The burly man clenched his fist at his side.<br>"Do it," Jim hissed lowly all pain forgotten as adrenaline filled his veins. The man must have seen something in Jim's eyes because his own widened in surprise. He slowly put his hands up but Jim wasn't finished. He had too much anger built up and nowhere to put it, no one to direct it to. He wanted to rip this man apart, kill him like he'd almost been killed. His own fists clenched itching, aching for a fight, but movement from his right brought him up short. It was the boy bartender. He had placed a hand on his shoulder lightly as to not spook him but to get his attention. He slowly shook his head with his mouth clamped shut but eyes so big and pupils wide like a puppy begging for food.

Jim looked at the arm on his shoulder then at the scared man in his hands. He growled feeling his back twinge with the weird angle he was at. Jim shoved the man backwards staring him down with ice blue eyes. The guy fixed his jacket roughly, gaze not leaving Jim but backed away from him. Jim stared at him until the man left the bar then turned back to his seat and sat down heavily. Jim heard a clink near his chest that he was so used to he almost let it go until he heard it again. Looking down Jim cursed himself grabbing at his dog tags and shoving them back under his shirt through his collar. He wasn't even in the army anymore so technically he shouldn't be wearing the tags but he couldn't take them off, he didn't have the heart or the strength to. It was just pieces of metal on chain but to him it meant so much more. A mug was sat in front of him with a thud. Jim looked down at it with a scowl taking in the steaming brown liquid that was defiantly not a beer or shot of whisky.  
>"What the hell is this?" He demanded laying his hands on the sticky bar eyeing the mug with disgust.<br>Jenks stood opposite "That is hot chocolate. My mamma's recipe."  
>"I ordered a beer." Jim seethed still glaring at the cup hoping to make it shatter or spontaneously combust, either was fine with him. No longer did his hands tremble, now they were full out shaking along with the base of his spine. His entire body, in fact, shook.<br>"And I gave you hot chocolate. Drink it son, it'll warm you up. You don't need a beer right now." The way Jenks looked at him made Jim turn his head down to stop the man from seeing the way his eyes clouded. Tears threatened violently in the corners even as he fought them back. If Jim didn't know any better he'd think this man was Pike who had sat down with him after the first time he'd killed a man in combat.  
><em>Drink some water son, it'll help a hell of a lot more than a beer. Trust me.<em>  
>But this wasn't Pike. Pike was dead and buried in some grave in Arlington after a service Jim hadn't been allowed to attend. He was too busy being unconscious and he suppose they didn't want to wait until he woke up before they gave the twenty-one gun salute.<br>Jim swallowed hard and rubbed at his eyes drying any stray tears that tried to fall. He nodded picking up the cup with a trembling hand. The mug shook violently forcing Jim to grab onto it with both hands. He took a small sip not trusting his body fully. Too many things had been thrown up recently for him to trust his stomach. The doctors said throwing up could be a side effect of the medicine but Jim hadn't taken any tonight so he should be fine. He took a tentative sip of the warm liquid. It was hot and sweet on his tongue so he took another, larger sip. The hot chocolate slid down his throat and into his stomach nicely. Jim sighed in content taking another drink of the hot liquid as it warmed his insides.

"A secret between the two of us Jim, I knew who you were when you walked in here. Everyone 'round here knows you. You used to be quite the little shit when you was young but now yer a good fellow. A right good one."  
>Jim looked away from the man feeling his face redden and throat grow tight. He wasn't a good man no matter what anyone told him. He was a killer. A soldier who murdered. He wasn't even a full man anymore. He was a burden, half a man. A cyborg with no leg and a messed up back. Too many scars. Too many nightmares.<br>"I would say thank you for your service but you don't want me to just as soon as I don't want you thankin' me so I'm gonna tell you to get on home and when you come back they'll be a nice cold beer or two waiting here for you, Captain."  
>Jim's throat was so tight it was a wonder he could even breathe. His hands shook slightly more than usual and he could feel the tears stinging his swollen eyes once more. He nodded mutely not being able to put his thoughts into words. This kindness, he felt like he didn't deserve it but also that this man was so like the man he'd served under. The man that had saved his life. He reminded him of Pike.<br>Jim ran his shaky fingers through his hair and nodded again putting his weight on the bar to help himself up. Once he gained his footing he wavered slightly, not used to the prosthetic. Jim grabbed at the bar again seeing stars dance in his eyes in intricate patterns making him dizzy. Jim wavered violently and would have fallen if Jenks silent companion hadn't suddenly appeared at his side. His hands slid around Jim's torso softly but forceful enough to catch him before he fell.  
>"On second thought why don't I get someone to help us home," Jenks disappeared from behind the bar as the silent man helped Jim sit on one of the stools. Jim's face flushed so red with embarrassment it burned his eyes. He flicked his eyes around to look at the bar then let out a breath when he realized he was the only patron left.<br>"Pavel?" Jenks through what looked to be keys at the boy. The boy, Pavel nodded then disappeared out the door.

"He'll take you home Captain." Jim nodded feeling sick to his stomach. It wasn't ten minutes later that Jim had said goodbye to Jenks with the promise of coming back soon for a real drink and was having warm air blown on him from Pavel's heater.

"Sank you Keptin, for helping me with that man earlier."  
>"So you do talk," Jim smiled though his eyes were shut and he could feel himself falling.<br>"Da, but people make fun of me so I do not speak often when I am at vork."

"I think you have a cool accent," Jim said before drifting off.

The anger was still there and it still burned but the fire wasn't quite so hot, more easily managed. The fear also lingered in the backs of his mind and body making him jump and try to hide in fear but it wasn't as prominate as when he'd first come home. He told his mother and the councilors he was ordered to see that he was getting better and maybe he was. He'd only been home for a grand total of three months but he felt like he'd made a lot of progress in such a short time. He'd said as much to the therapist and she had sighed softly as shook her head then told him it was because he hadn't gone out and done anything much since coming home.

"What are you thinking about Cap?" asked Jenks from across from him running through the drinks on his shelf. Jim shrugged staring at his drink that he hadn't touched since the man had set it in front of him. Jenks sighed and turned towards the captain. "You keep stuff bottled up it ain't gonna help with the whole healin' aspect, ya know?"

Jim nodded and said slowly, "My… therapist, she thinks that I need to go out and do things."

"Like get a job?"

Jim shook his head, "No, not yet anyways but going out with people and not being alone all the time, I guess."

"That's doesn't sound too out there," Jenks commented huffing his breath on a glass to get a shine. Jim shook his head hard before he stopped when the room began to spin.

"No… no I don't know… I mean, here is fine. I know you and I know Pav and I know where the exits are and I don't go home with anyone and I sure as shit don't bring anyone home with me but if… if I…" Redness brightened Jim's face and the back of his neck in anger. He couldn't get his words out the way he wanted them to. He didn't want to go out, he didn't want to make any new friends or rekindle the bridges he burned with the old ones.

"Why don't ya wanna go out and get some friends, Jimmy?

"Because they might die too." Jim froze as the words left his mouth. He sucked in a breath, tears came to his eyes while his hand fell away from where it had sat on the bar. He hadn't meant to say those words aloud, or ever. They were supposed to stay hidden away in his mind until he was ready to deal with them. The last friends he had were killed because of him, he wasn't about to make more.

Suddenly the dark bar morphed in front of his eyes. The flint of the polished glasses became the glints of guns. The chatter that had begun to die out around the bar became his men screaming.

_"__Medic! Medic! Someone, anyone! Please… We need a medic down here now!"_

A hard hand on his arm pulled Jim from the flashback roughly. Jim jerked away hard without meaning to. His breath came quick with sweat slicking his forehead.

"That ain't no way to live Jimmy."

Jim nodded feeling exhausted and embarrassed, he hadn't had a flashback all week.

"Pavel! Why don't you go grab your car?" Jenks yelled down to the curly haired boy who was scrubbing glasses in the sink. Pavel nodded and left without a word. Jim leveled a glare at the old man before mumbling under his breath about how he could take care of himself.

"It's cold, you're obviously tired and Winona would never forgive me if I let you drive home right now." Jenks smiled down at Jim as he held his hand up with his middle finger flying high.

Jim tried to roll his eyes but stopped when the bar started to fade in and out of focus. He shook his head and took three long blinks before leaning all of his strength on his arms to heave himself to his feet. The change in position made his head spin again and he wavered on his feet somewhat before gaining his balance. Maybe he was more tired than he'd thought.

"See ya later son," called Jenks as Jim limped violently to the door. Even though he was away from the man Jim could still feel not only his eyes but the eyes of the few patrons left in the bar on his back. By this point everyone around this small town knew who he was and what had happened to him and it was a little annoying the amount of help he'd been offered. From the news crews that wanted the inside scoop to the neighbors who lived miles down the road, even his high school teachers who he could remember hating his guts came by to offer him their gratitude and just talk. It was annoying and angering. Most of the time Jim didn't even answer the door anymore.

Once outside Jim leaned against the side of the building waiting for Pavel and his little car he was sure would break down any day now. The cold air bit at his arms and leg making the prosthetic even more unbearable where it touched the remaining parts of his leg. Jim knew he should have been using the crutches or even his wheel chair to get around and not put so much weight on the injured side but he wasn't about to crutch around or worse, get wheeled around. The cane had been the next best thing but again that showed weakness and Jim already showed enough of that.

Pavel pulled up his car where Jim leaved heavily against the side of the building then got out to open his door for him. Jim rolled his eyes before limping towards the car.

"Want to dust off my seat as well?" He muttered under his breath. "Maybe kiss my forehead and tell me a bedtime story?"

Pavel said nothing as he closed Jim's door and got back in on the driver's side. The ride back to the Kirk farmhouse was quiet as soft tones played over the radio. It was soothing watching the fields roll by one by one until they meshed together in a stream of muted colors and darkness. The clock on Pavel's car read _1:57 am_ brightly illuminating part of the boy's face and hands as he navigated towards Jim's house.

"You said zat zey think it is good idea to have friends?" Pavel said suddenly jarring Jim out of the lull that the passing fields had put him into. He looked over at the boy he knew was barely old enough to drive let alone be serving alcohol but didn't say anything. His throat closed against his voice as he tried to find the right words for the curly haired boy.

Pavel chanced a glance at the older man. "You need friends, Jim."

"I don't want any friends Pav," Jim sighed looking away so the boy couldn't see his glistening eyes. Jim didn't want, didn't _need_ any friends. He was doing perfectly well with it just being him and his mother - even though she worked all the time, it seemed. And besides, he did have some friends. Jenks was his friend and Pavel seemed to like him. In hindsight, that's really all he needed.

Pavel said nothing else as he guided his car into Jim's long driveway. They car bounced and bumped along the dirt road making the tags around Jim's neck clink loudly while his teeth clicked roughly. As soon as his leg would let him, Jim promised himself, he was going to get some people in to pave the driveway.

The car stopped right in front of the old farmhouse. Pavel was out of his side and opening Jim's door faster than the man could get his seat belt off. Jim laid his head back on the warm seat then rolled it sideways while staring at the boy, an annoyed expression washing over his face. Smartly, Pavel backed up resisting the urge to help Jim from the car. Jim grasped the sides of the small car with both hands and counted to three before heaving himself out. His vision swam momentarily when he stood but he shook his head to get himself together before putting weight on his bad leg. Pavel walked with Jim up to his house silently and slowly keeping the wounded mans pace.

"I vill be here to pick you up at six o'clock tomorrow night." Pavel said when Jim reached for the handle of the door.

"Why?" He asked fishing his keys from his pocket when he realized the door was locked. It was strange, Jim thought, the door being locked. He had requested to his mother that the once always unlocked door be locked even if there was someone home. But it was still weird having to use his house keys.

Without missing a beat Pavel squared his shoulders and crossed his arms. "You are going to dinner with me and some of my friends."

Jim sighed heavily leaning his warm forehead against the door. "Pav I really don't think that's a good-"

"Nyet! No excuses. You vill like zem, I promise." Then he turned and left without another word leaving Jim to open the door and stare at the boy with a mouth half open. Not only did Jim not hear the boy ever talk this much but he had never heard so much determination in his voice.

"I vill see you tomorrow Jim!" And with that he was in his car and backing down the long driveway.

Closing the door behind him and walking over to sink into the couch Jim muttered curses under his breath. Jim reclined on the couch content to just sit there and wait for his mother to get off shift from her work and come home. Slowly his eyes started to close and he ignored the things he knew he had to do like take his prosthetic off and remove his jacket and shoes. Without much thought Jim drifted off to a sleep. He hoped it wasn't filled with any nightmares.

_To Be Continued..._


	2. Chapter 2: For Here I Fight

**Well hello there long time between updates. Sorry about that. But wait no more for here is another update!**

**From here on out we will be going back and forth between Jim's time in Afghanistan and Present day Iowa, any questions please PM me. I also do not claim to know everything about the army so please just go along with everything, I tried to keep most everything correct but I know there's a few things not military correct so just go with it, thank you. PSA over :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2: For Here I Fight<strong>

_Afghanistan_

It was hot, so very _very_ hot with the sun beating down seeming to fry any skin that lay exposed on his neck and arms. Jim tried to uncurl his sleeves to keep his arms from getting burnt but the sweat that dripped from his face and down his back when he had his sleeves down made it uncomfortable. Instead, Jim pushed his camo flappy hat down farther on his head and stared straight trying to save the skin on his neck. The gravel crunched under his heavy boots while the black M-16 rifle dully hit his backside and upper leg. As soon as the gravel had started it quickly turned to sand that spit up with every step he took. The Kevlar body armor jacket weighed his shoulders down. The weight, once heavy and pain inducing to his shoulders, was now a comfortable feel across his back. It meant safety and gave him security.

Absently Jim waved at a pair of soldiers he passed – Sergeants Neal and O'Callahand – and nodded to them. Both men had been good on the mission they'd just gotten off of with Neal being the driver and O'Callahand holding strong up in the gun torrent while Jim commanded from the passenger seat of their Humvee. It had been long and they had taken enemy fire on both their right side and left during the drive from Kandahar and down the Helvance Provence. For three days he had been with those men held up in the armored truck and Jim figured they now held a comradery together only achieved by combat.

"Sir," O'Callahand said before both of them brought their hands up in a trimmed solute without stopping their walk. Jim brought his hand up and snapped the same solute back before they passed. Jim shook his head at them and chuckled to himself thinking about all the times he told his men that they didn't need to address him so formally outside of Command Headquarters. He was only a Second Lieutenant but his men were loyal through and through. Jim figured it was the battles they had fought and the skirmishes they had lived through. On all of his missions Jim had commanded he had never lost a man. There had been injuries – there would always be in war – but he had never lost any of his men. And that wasn't a fact Jim took lightly.

More dirt was kicked up as Jim leisurely made his way towards the plywood storage containers that had been made to live and sleep in for the short period of time his company was stationed at Camp Greyback. It was better than the tents he had lived in for a few weeks at the beginning of his tour but the plywood structures would never really feel like home.

Sand bit at Jim's cheeks as he opened the door to his shared quarters and stepped inside. Compared to the outside sunlight the room was dark and it took a moment or two before his eyes could adjust. When they did he swiftly heaved the strap of his gun off his shoulders and then started unvelcrowing his Kevlar jacket. Once done he took one arm out and pushed it off of his body without the usual grunt that followed. Now mostly completely free from the heavy equipment that weighed him down, Jim walked through his small quarters and towards his top bunk bed. Looking over at the other bunk he noticed it was empty and he shook his head. His roommates were probably out getting the dinner that Jim had decided to skip.

With more effort than he thought it should have taken, Jim climbed into his bunk remembering at the last minute that he still had his boots tied to his feet. When he was laid down he brought one foot up and untied his boot and threw it on the floor then quickly disposed of the other in a similar manner. Usually Jim would lay them nearly side by side by his locker and clean his gun before going to bed but Jim didn't feel like it. He'd just gotten off of a three day mission that hadn't allotted a lot of time for sleep and so he was rightfully exhausted. Silently he thanked his Commanding Officer that he wasn't on call tonight.

The sun was still out and the sand still hot but he was so tired, the headache that had started last night still had not stopped thrumming in his head making it hurt. Still dressed in his uniform pants and undershirt Jim closed his eyes and tried to drift off to the sounds of an alive camp outside his little living space.

It felt like only a few minutes later that the curtain door to his room was shoved aside and the light switched on brightly. Jim whimpered in what he hoped was a very manly way and shoved the blankets over his head. His eyes felt heavy and his head still hurt.

"Found him!" Someone that sounded distinctly like one of his friend's yelled making Jim want to crawl deeper into the warm confines of his rack or punch the man in the face. Both sounded good to Jim.

"Kirk! Why the hell are you in bed?" Another voice yelled from the doorway and Jim couldn't pretend to be asleep anymore. Regretting every second of it, Jim slowly pulled back his blankets and looked around the room with bleary eyes. His three roommates stood around the room with a few other guys already sitting in the main area. He heard laughing and the sound of their small TV turning on.

"Can't a guy get some sleep around here?" Jim mumbled. "Come on, I just got off a run." He finished referring to the mission.

The man closest to the door nodded his head with his hands clasped firmly behind his pin straight back. "That is understandable however Captain Pike wants to speak with you and could not find you. We were told by him to ascertain your location and if need be drag you to his office."

Jim stared at the dark haired man blinking slowly. "You know Spock, I could listen to you talk all day long."

"I can't," Master Sergeant Adam Hendorff huffed taking off his gun and starting to undo his own Kevlar. "You sound like a robot, man."

Spock turned to look at his bunk mate with his lips pursed slightly. "As you have just said that I sound like a robot then continuing to call me _man_ would be an oxymoronic sentence."

The end of Jim's bed dipped as Jim's bottom bunkmate jumped on his rack. The wooden structure creaked as Sergeant First Class Gary Mitchell leaned back with his head against the side of the wall.

"Do they have to argue every day?" Mitchell whispered as Spock and Hendorff continued to go at it. Jim sighed and laid back not wanting to get up. He could feel sand and grit in his eyes and at the edges of his mouth as well as itchy sand between his chest and shirt. It was uncomfortable but he didn't complain. One cold shower and some aspirin and he'd be golden.

"You alright, dude?" Mitchell asked. Jim could hear Spock suddenly go silent and the room went quiet.

"Fine," Jim said looking up at the plywood and metal ceiling. Suddenly a hand was touching his forehead and Jim jerked back and the touch. Spock was right next to him with his head tilted to the side in annoyance.

"You do feel warm Captain, perhaps you are becoming ill."

Jim shook his head and sat up untangling his legs and feet from the blankets and sleeping bag he'd wrapped himself up in. "Just been a long day Commander."

Mitchel rubs at his recently shaved head. "Why do you two do that all the time?"

Another man, peaks his head into the small already crowded room. Weapons Specialist Grant Olson throws a package towards Jim who catches it with learned skill before it can fall to the ground. The package is heavy on his hands and when Jim touches the edges he can hear a crinkle inside. A package from his mother most likely. The Specialist then leans against the door crossing his arms. Jim smiles down at the package thinking about now nice it was nice not recognizing anyone's rank in his quarters or while not on duty. It was always messy business trying to remember that he was a high rank and some of his friends were lower. Here it didn't matter however and they could all just be themselves, like boot camp when they were the worst of the worst – the bottom of the food chain. When they were on call or on a mission then the familiarity was forgotten and the professional aspect was respected but that wasn't now and Jim was happy for it.

"Why does who do what now?" Olson questions leaning hard against the wall with his army jacket only half unzipped letting the fan that blew in the corner waft air into his chest.

Jim looks over at Olson while Hendorff rolls his eyes. "It's just a thing they do," Hendorff huffs in a bored voice as if he'd said it a thousand times, which he had. "Started when they were at basic together, don't ask them why because neither of them ever explain."

Spock neatly unzips his jacket then sits on his bottom rack and begins to undo the laces of his boots. "There is no reason that directly pertains to you but if there ever is I will be sure to explain our reasoning."

Everyone is silent for only a second before Hendorff pulls off one of his socks and heaves it at Spock's face hitting him square on the forehead to which he doesn't even blink. Just stares at the man with his head tilted and an annoyed expression.

Hendorff throws his hands in the air. "See? A damn robot!"

Olson shakes his head and laughs along with the rest of the men. Jim tries in vain to hide his smile with the back of his hand while pretending to rub his nose. Often times Spock preaches discipline and regulations often quoting from the Military Code of Conduct book verbatim but right now they were off duty and the Second Lieutenant was lax around his men.

Olson leans forward, "You see the Brits that came in last night? They brought a few of their Warhogs –"

"No way! Those things are massive," Hendorff shakes his head.

"Yeah but don't get too close 'cause those bloody Brits will start yellin' at ya to back away or something, I don't know." Olson laughed. "I can't ever understand 'em when they start yelling', the brutes."

"Forgive me, Sergeant Olson," Spock began bringing another eye roll from Hendorff. "But aren't you yourself from Great Brittan?"

Olson nodded before standing back up and tapping on his chest. "Aye I lived there a few years but I was born on American soil and so for here I fight."

"How poetic," Mitchell snickered.

"Shove it up your ass, Mitchell," Olson bit back with no malice.

"Get bent Olson," Mitchell laughed throwing Jim's small basketball at him. Olson ducked the ball and laughed as it rolled into the other room.

Olson, all five feet seven inches of him, threw his hand up to his forehead and swooned dramatically. "The words you speak doth wound me, my friend!"

Jim laughed at that as the chubby man grabbed at his heart and sank to the floor. "You guys are idiots."

"Dude," Mitchell begins but stops as another man walks into the room. He is in the process of taking off his helmet but had already removed his gun and body armor. Strangely however, is the shorts that ride high on the boy's legs. They're short and black, running shorts.

The man is sandy haired and baby faced with brown eyes and couldn't be a day older than eighteen. He comes over to Jim holding a file in hand and salutes.

_Yep_, Jim thinks, _defiantly a new guy._

Jim snaps a salute to the man who looks like a boy. The boy hands the file of papers to Jim. "Corporal Lance Meede from Tiffin Ohio, sir. Major Archer assigned me to you to help with your paperwork."

"Say it ain't so Jim, say it ain't so!" Mitchell grabs at Jim and shakes him hard. Jim tries to chuckle but the shaking makes his headache worse and his stomach feel even more nauseated. He pushes Mitchell off of him. "Please tell me you didn't just get assigned a man servant wearing boot camp shorts!"

The boy huffs opening and closing his mouth, stuttering. Jim juts his arm out to punch the man sitting next to him before turning back to the boy and holding out his hand to shake. "First Lieutenant James T. Kirk from Riverside Iowa, nice to meet you. I still need to write down the mission report from the yesterday but once that's done I'll get it to you in no time."

Meede nods dropping his hand from Jim's strong grip. He looks a little star struck as his gaze lingers for just a moment too long on Jim's face. The bright lights of the room make Meede's brown eyes glisten in amazement.

"Anything else, Corporal?"

The boy stumbles on his words again, "N-No sir. It will be an honor working with you."

Jim offers his hand again in goodbye. "Likewise."

By the time the boy is gone and Jim tucks away the file of papers he needs to fill out Mitchell is in tears laughing and yelling about how Jim has a new admirer and one man fan club. Hendorff and Olson laugh along with him but Spock just lounges back on his rack brining up a well-worn paperback book that looks suspiciously like one of Jim's that his mother sent him.

"How was the mission?" Hendorff questions Jim after everyone is calmed down and Olson goes back into the other room. Jim just shrugs.

"Same shit different day."

Mitchell chuckles and shakes his head before grabbing one of Jim's trinkets from the shelf by his bed and playing with it in his hands. Jim jumps from his bunk and onto the ground, "You said the Captain wanted me?"

"Affirmative. I shall join you." Spock says setting his book aside and sliding his feet back into his boots just as Jim does. Together they both strap back on their bullet proof Kevlar and drape their guns across their shoulders by the straps. They both automatically check their guns and the gear attached to their body armor silently. That done the two men step out onto the sandy ground.

It was cold now that the sun wasn't blazing hot and Jim shivered savoring the coolness on his damp sweaty skin. Lights around the camp are lit bright and shining making it almost appear like it was daylight outside.

"Maybe you should look into seeing Doctor Boyce. You look flushed Jim," Spock said after a minute of comfortable silence. Jim looks over at one of his best friends and smiles.

"Awe Spockie, are you worried about me?" His puffs out his cheek and leans against the man while still walking. Spock looked at him with an unimpressed expression before shaking his head and closing his eyes, no doubt to roll them.

"As we attended bootcamp together I do not need to remind you my physical prowess should I choose to intentionally harm you if you call me that again."

Jim laughed so used to his friend's strange way of speaking. "Did you just say that if I called you that again you'd kick my ass?"

"... In not so many words, yes."

Again Jim laughed and lightly shoved the taller man. A small smirk drifted across Spock's normally stoic features as they entered building designated as Command Headquarters.

_Iowa_

Jim woke hearing the sound of his mother moving pans in the kitchen. He lightly rubbed at his face feeling drool that had escaped his mouth. He felt something press against him and realized someone, his mother most likely, had laid a blanket over him. Jim moved like he was going to sit up but stopped as something hard and white hot shot up from his tail bone to the base of his neck. He shuttered violently swinging his hand back to try to rub the pain away from his lower back. When his fingers touched the hard brace Jim knew he was an idiot. He'd slept in not only his prosthetic but also the brace.

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

"Ma... Mom?" If it were any other time or any other place Jim would swear up one side and down the other that he didn't whimper as he called for his mother to help him.

From the kitchen the sounds of pots and pans being put away stopped as his mother quickly padded into the living room.

"What's wrong honey?"

Jim had his eyes squeezed shut in pain, sweat collected on his forehead. He hadn't even remembered to take any medicine last night since he'd had a beer or two so there was nothing in his system to help relieve the pain. "B-Back. My brace…"

With those few words and the outline of the tight brace against his t-shirt his mother quickly pulled his shirt up and leaned Jim sideways so she could undo the straps and clamps from the brace. When she was done she nimbly worked it off of Jim's back and he breathed a sigh of relief that made his body shiver and spas under her hands.

Winona sat back on the coffee table setting the brace aside after she helped her son back into a sitting position.

"Jim have you been using the crutches or cane even?" She asked lightly.

Jim rolled his eyes under his eyes lids. "Ma, I don't need the crutches or cane. I'm fine."

Winona took a calming breath before speaking. This was a long fighting battle with her hard headed son. "Jimmy please the Doctors said that you need to use something. Your leg isn't strong enough to be walking around without it. That added to your back it's a miracle you're even up and about but you can't push it. At least try the walker for now and when your back gets stronger you can go without."

Jim took a deep exasperated breath not wanting to snap at his mom. He didn't need anything to help him walk, he was fine. Pain was good for the body.

"Come on baby we need to take it off now. You know you're not supposed to sleep with it on." Winona said motioning to Jim's leg. Jim nods silently and grunts as Winona helps ease his leg up to rest on her lap while she sat on the long coffee table. Laying back, Jim stares at the ceiling as his mother folds back the pant leg of his jeans then pushes them up his leg.

"Jim, sweetheart I'm sorry I know you don't like this."

Jim laid his head back on the couch not wanting to watch his mother take his leg off from just under the knee. He closes his eyes feeling a headache beat dully in the back of his head and wishes he were anywhere but where he was now. He hears the sounds of his mother unclipping and maneuvering the prosthetic from the stump that used to be his lower leg but he doesn't look.

"What are your plans for today?" Winona tries to take her son's mind from the process of removing the fake leg. Jim shakes his head silently telling her he had no plans but then stops as Pavel's words travel back into his mind.

"Pavel said he's taking me to dinner with him and some of his friends."

"That's good. Pavel from the bar, right?" Winona clarifies looking up at Jim. Jim laughs still staring up at the ceiling.

"Yeah but Pav can't be any older than nineteen or twenty so it'll probably be more like me hanging out with a whole bunch of kids."

Setting the prosthetic leg aside and grabbing a blanket to put over Jim's lap, Winona shakes her head. "Jimmy don't get so mighty now you're no old man, you're not even twenty four for God's sake."

_Yeah twenty-three and a truck full of military training and no place to put it_, Jim thinks solemnly but just shrugs at his mother.

Winona gets up off the table and walks to the kitchen. By the time she gets back Jim has nestled further into the blanket and brought the it up to his chin after helping his leg back onto the couch. Winona gets down on her knees with pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

"Jimmy," She whispers and smiles down at her son when he opens his blue eyes. Eyes just like his daddy's. "Take these sweetheart." She says handing the medicine to him then the glass.

Jim takes both and shoots back the pills with practiced skill. He then lays back and lets a small tired smile play across his lips. He knows he should be doing something like doing some of his physical therapy or working on something but he can't bring himself to care. Winona runs her fingers through Jim's hair relishing in the fact that it's long enough to do so. Ever since he was eighteen it had been buzzed short but now it's long and soft and she can brush his away from his eyes and behind his ears like she used to do when he was just a boy.

"Go to sleep my little soldier," She whispers with a smile. Jim can't stop the rock that settles in his stomach at his mother calling him a solider but he hides his hurt and nods back to his mom. He can feel his eyes sliding shut again.

"I'll wake you up in a few hours."

Then, with the medicine coursing through his veins, Jim feels himself falling asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>I know, I know, I ended it with the 'falling asleep' thing again but don't worry we get to meet some people in the next chapter. *cough* Leonard *cough*<strong>


	3. Chapter 3: Stranger Take Me Away

**Onwards and Upwards!**

**Bad language in this chapter and some man love, don't like don't read.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: Stranger Take Me Away<strong>

Jim stared down at the shirts that lay on his bed in disgust with his hands perched on his hips and head shaking subtly. He clicked his tongue looking intently at the seemingly random mesh up of his clothes that covered his mattress from the headboard to the toe of the bed. Leaning over, Jim grabbed at the nearest one; a grey shirt with lettering on the front that he didn't pay attention to. He slid the shirt carefully over his back brace then padded towards the bathroom mirror tucking the shirt in and zipping then buckling his jeans in the process. Jim reached the bathroom, as he had almost five times before, to look at himself.

"Fuck me," he breathed to himself before swiftly turning back to his room pulling off one of his army boot camp shirts and tossing it across the room in disgust because damnit, he wasn't about to wear one of his army shirts.

"It shouldn't be this hard." Jim sighed looking at his entire wardrobe again. He cursed himself for acting like such a damn girl. So what if he was going out with people he'd never met. So what if this was really the first time he'd gone out with other people his age and they weren't a part of his company. So what if his heart beat fast in his chest and his hands were slick and clammy with sweat. These were just people, Pavel's friends and Pavel himself would be there, he would be fine. Everything would be fine.

_Alright Kirk, get yourself together._

"Jim!" Winona's voice rang up from the where she was folding her own clothes in her room. "It's _five forty-five_ are you dressed yet?" She yelled again. Jim chewed on his already swollen bottom lip letting out a quick breath and cursing himself one more time.

Reaching down blindly Jim grabbed for a simple white undershirt that was tight but not overly so around his slim back brace and tucked it into his jeans. Then he selected a blue striped button up with cuffs already stitched closed mid arm and slid it carefully over his shoulders. When he was done with the minor adjustments to ensure the shirt looked fine and his brace didn't stick out Jim limped to his bathroom to finish grooming himself. His dog tags jingled once and he stuffed them into his shirt then tried to forget about them.

"My, don't you look handsome," Winona smiled with her sweater clutched in tight around herself as she leaned against the door frame of Jim's bathroom. Jim felt his face redden and one quick glance at the mirror confirmed his fear. He gave his mother a quick small smile then turned to the mirror flattening his hair and attempting to shape it. It was way too long, he needed a haircut.

When his hair was flattened Jim looked at himself once again and sighed hard before running both hands through his hair succeeding in messing it back up.

"Jimmy, honey, I really think it's going to be okay," Winona tried to give her son a tentative smile.

"I know Ma, I'm just..." He shook his head.

Winona smiled again and touched her son lightly on the arm. Jim turned to look at her with wide eyes. A part of Winona was sad, angry even that her once outgoing, over outrageous son was reduced to this. Tentative, shy, being scared or spooked at the slightest thing. Limping around the house or even resorting to hopping when his prosthetic leg hurt too bad to wear. Sometimes his back hurt him so much he couldn't even get out of bed or roll over without her help, which he never asked for. The time when she'd come home from a short trip to the grocery store only to find her son on the ground _crawling_ to the bathroom had just about broken her already fragile heart. Jim hadn't told her all that had happened when the bomb had gone off under his Humvee and he had been dragged away by terrorists, but she knew the basics. The things they told her when he'd come home. The things she'd figured out on her own.

Crowded places were a no-go for her son. Loud noises made him break out in a sweat and shiver slightly. Fireworks or gun shots on the television made him jump and cause his eyes to grow wide. The first time he had fallen when walking to the barn to get something she dropped what she had been doing and ran towards him. Jim had screamed and shook burying his face into the ground. It was the first panic attack Winona had seen but she doubted it really was Jim's first.

_"Don't run towards me. Don't run towards me, I can't help you. I can't help you. Please, I can't help you."_

He'd muttered to himself laying on the ground in a sad attempt to curl into a ball, his back brace painfully forcing his back to stay straight.

And the nightmares... Winona shivered at the thought of them. The screams and the thrashing and her not being able to do a damn thing about it. It made her sick and it made her want to track down the horrible men that did this to her brave boy. He wanted to find them with her Daddy James' old rifle and make them pay.

"How do I look, Ma?" Jim asked bringing Winona from her thoughts. The woman smiled at her boy and touched his cheeks. He really did look handsome.

"Like a prince, baby. You look like a prince." Jim shook his head with a chuckle before taking a hold of his pant leg and fixing his jeans so they covered the ankle of his prosthetic. Winona swatted his hand away after a few minutes of him fiddling. "You can't even tell Jimmy."

Jim nodded once then set his jaw and nodded to himself again. He took a deep breath to settle his nerves then gestured to the hallway.

"Lay on, Macduff."

* * *

><p>True to his word Pavel knocked on the Kirk's door at exactly sick o'clock. Winona answered but Jim wasn't far behind her. Pavel looked nice in black slacks and a dark yellow sweater that just screamed <em>I'm-trying-to-look-sophisticated<em> but the back converse that adorned his feet broke the facade and Jim smiled at him while feeling something loosen in his chest a bit.

"You clean up wery well, Jim," Pavel said holding out his hand to shake.

"You too, Pav," he smiled taking the hand and shaking it firmly.

Winona crossed her arms the way she used to when Jim was younger and went on dates. "You two have fun now but don't be stupid and if anyone ends up in jail their asses are staying there until morning, ya hear?"

Jim rolled his eyes before leaning in to give his mother a kiss on the cheek. "Goodbye Ma, I'll see you in the morning."

"Hmmm," she hummed before turning on Pavel who eyes bulged like a deer in headlights. "You take care of my baby and if he gets hurt it'll be you I'm commin' after." Pavel nodded fast with wide, wide, horror struck eyes. Winona managed for only a second longer before a good natured smile broke her face and she brought the younger man in for a tight hug. Pavel let out a breath and smiled at the laughing woman.

"Don't stay out too late Jimmy you know you have that appointment tomorrow morning at the hospital and physical therapy afterwards so don't drink or eat anything after midnight!" She calls as they walked to the car. Jim grumbles under his breath about how much he hated that stupid doctor that helped him last time. He doesn't think his mother can hear him but then she yells. "I'll look into getting a different doctor for tomorrow. Bye bye Jimmy-Bear!"

Once they were both in the car, Pavel having opened Jim's door once more and Jim eyeing him distastefully, Pavel drove off down the long driveway and out onto the road. Jim tries to stave off his sour mood, he had forgotten about the appointment tomorrow morning. He shakes his head and puts an easy smile on his face.

"Sorry about my mother, she's..." Jim searched for the right word. "Protective."

"Eese okay, my mother is same way. Do not worry, Jimmy-Bear."

The name came so fast from the boy that Jim was dumbstruck for only a minute and Pavel feared he had over stepped his boundary but then Jim laughed. Hard. His eyes teared up and he had to grab at his brace when it began to feel too tight.

"Jesus," he wheezed when he'd finished laughing. He wasn't expecting the younger man to pull that one out so fast. He barely knew the kid but he already liked him. "Please don't tell anyone about that nickname." He smiled.

Pavel kept his eyes on the road but laughed. "My lips are locked."

"You mean sealed," Jim corrected still chuckling.

"_Da_, sealed. Locked. welcrowd and glued. Whatever strange American term is."

Jim couldn't help his laugh or the way his heart seemed to warm.

"Okay so z'ere will be four people joining us for dinner." Jim nodded leaning back in his seat. "So not too many people but zey are fun group. Don not try to out drink Montgomery Scott because zen we will be dragging your drunk _zadnica_ home."

It was almost twenty minutes later and an argument over Bon Jovi – "_Nyet _he is from Russia you must understand all good things come from Mother Russia!" – before they pulled into the parking lot to a good looking bar and grill.

"The Rodenberry?" Jim asks looking up at the place everyone was meeting.

"_Da_," Pavel says taking off his seatbelt. "But we call it de _Roden_, it is good place." Jim licks his lips feeling his heart start to speed in his chest.

"You feel uncomfortable with the place we leave and find anozer." The young man beside him says suddenly, surprising Jim. "You feel uncomfortable with za people z'ere or with my friends zen you and I leave and find somewhere else to have dinner, just za two of us."

"Pav-"

"_Nyet_, tonight is for you Jim and we can do whatever you want to do."

Jim has to fight the tears in his eyes but he nods then waits for Pavel to get out of the car to open his door. With Pavel's help Jim eases himself from the car and tries hard not to limp towards the restaurant.

When they enter the building Jim is surprised to see that it's not very crowded. At one side there is a bar with a few patrons sitting sipping on their drinks and on the other side of the room there is wooden tables and comfortable looking booths. A woman passes them with a try of food in her hands and Pavel smiles at her.

"Hey there Pasha the boys are in the back," she gestures over her shoulder to some place in the back of the pub. "Who's your friend?" The woman has bright green eyes and fiery red hair that seems to fly away from her head.

Jim stutters, "I-I'm, uh…"

"This is Jim, Gala, and you are scaring him." Pavel cuts in to which Jim breathes an inaudible sigh of relief.

"Gala!" One of the patrons yells from where he a few other men are sitting at a table drinking beers. The other men have their eyes glued on the television. Jim tenses as the man yells again readying himself for a fight. Or to run away. He's not sure which instinct would kick in this time. But the man and the woman both surprise him when she yells back in a light laughing tone that she'll spit in his food if he hollers across the restaurant one more time. The man laughs and takes another drink of his beer. Distantly the man reminds Jim of one of his men, his friends, Master Sergeant Hendorff with his bald head and thick arms that ripple with muscles. But, the man wasn't Adam Hendorff, he couldn't be because Adam was dead.

Jim has to forcibly jerk himself away from those thoughts before it takes him under and swallows him whole. Tonight wasn't the night to be thinking of the people he lost, the people he couldn't save. Tonight was about meeting Pavel's friends.

_Keep it steady Kirk_, Pike's voice sounds warm and fatherly in his head and it makes his fried nerves calm somewhat.

"Well I better get going, I'll be over for orders when Ny gets here," the woman, Gala, turns to Jim brushing his shoulder lightly. "See you later, Cutie." With a wink she's gone.

Jim stays there staring at the curvy woman with too green eyes and red hair. Pavel laughs beside him before waving his hand in front of his face. "Gala is a funny woman. She will flirt all she has but always go home with za same man." He points to the man sitting down, the one who had yelled. "Zat eese her husband, Jim, I would suggest not chasing after zat particular woman."

Pavel shakes his head with a smile before starting to lead Jim to the back of the pub.

Jim runs his hand through his hair and mumbles under his breath, "Well considering that I'm gay you really don't have to worry." But his voice is swept away and eaten up by the music playing over the speakers and the football game on the multiple televisions near the bar.

At the back of the pub sit three men with their heads bent over something. Two men were facing them but the third had his back towards Jim and Pavel as they walked up. Jim felt his palms slicken with sweat but he ignored them and his quick beating heart. He could go this, there was nothing to be afraid of here. As Pavel reached the table the older man with a balding head and a coat that was too big draped over his shoulders looked up.

"Ah! Look who decided to join us. Finally laddie, I was about to eat ma'fingers!" Jim was surprised to hear a Scottish accent come from the man's mouth. "And who's the other laddie ya got with ya?"

Pavel smiled and motioned to Jim. "Dis is Jim Qork, uh," Pavel blushed and it made Jim laugh breaking the uncomfortable feeling that had settled inside of him. "Kirk," Jim smiled extending his hand to the man.

"Hikaru Sulu," the other man facing him reached his hand out. "But people just call me Sulu." Jim nodded at the man.

"I'm Monty Scott but ma'friends call me Scotty," the other man held his hand out and they shook. Jim quickly made his way around the table at Pavel's urging to sit next to the man named Sulu while he sat down beside the third man who seemed to be engrossed in his cell phone. Pavel shouldered him lightly and the man jumped looking at Pavel.

"Sorry, sorry, the damn hospital thinks they can just call me in whenever they want to. I just got scheduled for an apartment tomorrow morning and -"

The man stops and Jim looks up from the menu he had been studying. He lets out a small gasp when he meets the man's eyes. They're brown, no green, no _gold_. They keep changing from one mesmerizing color to the next. The man's face is heart shaped and framed with brown, almost black hair with tanned skin. The man is... Jim feels his heart flutter in his chest. Were those… where those _butterflies_ in his stomach? The man was handsome and Jim could feel himself almost gaping at him.

_Act cool, idiot,_ he scolds himself.

"Jim," he has to clear his throat. "Jim Kirk."

"McCoy, Leonard McCoy," the man says back and _oh god_ his voice. It's deep and southern and sounds delicious in Jim's ears. His lips are thin at top but thick at the bottom and Jim feels himself almost salivating. He absently notices that the man, Leonard McCoy, hasn't looked away from him either and it makes the jitters inside his stomach flutter more.

"Sorry I'm late!" A female voice says suddenly ripping Jim from his thoughts and his gaze away from the man. The woman who is standing in front of their table is beautiful with long dark hair and dark skin that shins in the dim lights of the pub. A part of Jim wonders how in the Hell Pavel managed to get such attractive looking friends.

"Okay everyone is here now cannae _please_ order some grub?" Scotty whines as the woman takes her seat.

Pavel stares at Jim for a moment before he starts to introduce the woman. "Jim, this is Ny-"

"Uhura," the woman interrupts and Jim can't help but laugh.

"Strange first name," Jim comments. "Do you have a last name?"

"That is my last name."

"Then do you have an – uh, first name?"

"Maybe."

"Owi give the lad a break Ny."

The woman smiles and looks at her menu. Jim can't help the grin that's stretched across his own face. He can tell that the woman is just messing with him. Uhura takes a seat beside Pavel, across from Jim. Jim sneaks another look down the table at Leonard over his menu. He's surprised to see the man glancing back down at him. Their eyes meet and Jim looks away fast and hides his red face behind the menu.

"So Jim, Pasha tells us you stuck up for him at the bar he works at?" asks Sulu from beside him. Jim likes the man already, the way his voice is calm and he looks at him with a pleasant smile gracing his face. Jim goes to shake his head and tell the man it was really nothing but Sulu continues on, "I work at the university just down the street from the bar. I work with the plants, you know. Seeding and watering and whatnot –"

"Karu don't be so modest," Pavel interrupts before turning to Jim. "He is the lead botanist at the university and he 'es starting up his own flower shop down za street." Sulu blushes and Jim thinks there's a little more to Pavel and Sulu's relationship than what they are letting on.

"Auch I never understand it, the plants," Scotty says from down the table.

Sulu shrugs, "I like plants. They're nice."

"Yeah until you touch one and spontaneously break out in hives or a rash. Then you have the pollen and spores in the air and you're just begging for an EpiPen," Leonard says shaking his head.

"McCoy is the grumpiest doctor you'll ever meet," Uhura flips her hair behind her shoulder and the whole table laughs but Jim just chuckles.

"You're a doctor?" Jim asks and Leonard nods. "Best damn doctor in the East Wing. When I die they'll just put my bones in a robot so I can continue to practice." Leonard is smiling wide and it does something to Jim's chest. "I work in the trauma ward most days and others I'm the head doctor on the floor. Except for tomorrow apparently, I have an appointment with some stubborn patient who doesn't like the on duty doctor."

"He's also very humble." Sulu leans back nursing a beer to his lips. This brings the table to more laughs and Jim also leans back. The conversation is easy going from there as each person is talking or making fun of each other. Jim could tell that they had been friends for a while and he's even surprised to hear Pavel talking so much. Since he'd met the young man Pavel had been a man of little words but now he was talking a mile a minute even peppering his speech with some Russian that makes Sulu's eyes almost twinkle. Uhura seems like a good woman even if she started out a little cold to Jim but the way she holds herself practically screams independence. Jim thinks he likes Scotty the most, outside of Leonard or _Bones_ as he had taken to calling the handsome man in his head because Leonard? What kind of a name is that? But Scotty is a funny man, Pavel wasn't kidding when he said not to try to out drink him. The man had already downed four beers and Jim thought he could still function without a problem.

Bones was a different story than the others. He grumbles and snaps but smiles and jokes along with the rest of the people. When he smiles he seems to glow in Jim's eyes. He doesn't think he's ever felt this way before. Jim didn't believe in love at first sight but this was a damn close thing.

It's a few hours later and Jim completely forgets about his leg or the aches in his back. He's still on his first beer but he hadn't really wanted to drink tonight since he had physical therapy the next morning but all the same he's relaxed and enjoying the easy going company around him. Their plates have been cleared away by Gala and their bill is waiting to be paid but no one gets up to pay it just yet still engrossed in conversation.

"So Jim, you neva' told us what ya do," Scotty leans forward to see Jim over Sulu. The conversation stills and Jim can feel himself start to panic. Logically he knows it's just a stupid question but his body reacts without him thinking.

"I-I uh," Jim clears his throat. "I was in the army."

_Calm down, Jim. Calm down._

The table quiets down but Jim feels like everyone is screaming.

"What did you do?" Uhura questioned. Jim opened his mouth to stutter out something but Bones cut him off.

"Get off it Ny, you won't even tell the kid your first name he don't got to tell you anything." It was light hearted but there was force behind Bones's words.

_It's okay Jim, its okay._ Jim told himself. He sat up straighter feeling his brace dig into his back reminding him of what he had forgotten about for the last few hours.

"No it's okay," he said surprising even himself. Pavel looked at him with sad eyes and tried to change the subject but Jim shook his head.

"I'm was a Captain in the army but I'm on leave right now." It wasn't a lie but it also wasn't exactly the truth. Uhura nodded and Scotty reached across Sulu with his hand held out. "Thank you for your service Cap."

Jim blushed hard and didn't look up but took the man's hand. He hated when people thanked him for his service but he understood why they did it and he liked Scotty, he seemed like a good man.

"So Ny, when are we going to meet the mysterious man you've been seeing?" Sulu looks to Uhura taking the attention away from Jim and for that he could have kissed the man. He wouldn't though because he got the feeling Pavel wouldn't like that and besides, he wanted to kiss someone else sitting at the other end of the table.

Uhura smiled shyly. It was the first time Jim had seen her look bashful all night. "Maybe someday. He doesn't like going out much and he's been working a lot on paper over quantum theory. He's trying to get a job at the university as one of the lead researchers in the science department."

* * *

><p>An hour later found Jim surrounded by his new friends as they left the restaurant. Jim felt good, he was elated and feeling high on the good food and great people. Bones walked next to him and Jim tried to suppress his limp but he knew the older man had already seen it. He was a doctor, he probably already figured out what was wrong with him. He probably already knew he had broken his back and didn't have a leg. He probably knew everything...<p>

"Why... Uh, why don't I give you my number and we can get coffee sometime." Bones said suddenly surprising Jim from his thoughts. They were walking towards Pavel's car having already said goodbye to the others. Pavel was back talking with Sulu so Jim decided to give them a moment. "I work a lot but there's always breaks and – and –"

"Coffee sounds great, Bones." Jim smiled.

"Bones?"

Jim's heart sank and he talked fast to try to cover his embarrassment. "Sorry, you said they'd put your bones in a robot and, sorry. That's weird uh – sorry."

Bones put his hand up and laid it on Jim's shoulder. Jim feels his shoulder first start to tingle before the sensation runs down his arm and through his chest making him have to suppress a shiver. Bones smiles and Jim could feel other parts of himself getting excited. "No, I like it."

They quickly exchanged numbers and Jim limps the rest of the way to Pavel's car with Bones next to him.

"I'll give you a call tomorrow?" Jim smiles rubbing the back of his head. He silently curses himself because what the _fuck_? Why was he so awkward all of the sudden?

"Yeah, I'd like that kid." Then Bones opens the door to Pavel's car and Jim was left smiling like an idiot and wondering how he became the bumbling Princess and Bones the chivalrous Prince.

* * *

><p><strong>"Lay on, Macduff" is a quote from William Shakespeare. "Lay on, Macduff, and damned be him who first cries 'Hold! enough!'"<strong>

**Let me know what you're thinking! I'm having alot of fun with this au.**


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